


a pair of doves

by andnowforyaya



Series: songbird [3]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Sex Work, kisaengs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngjae visits Daehyun at the kisaeng house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a pair of doves

Youngjae takes great care to leave offerings at the altar of his ancestors, to replace the incense when it has burned away, because he knows he is lucky. He’s not certain that his ancestors have anything to do with it, really, but by now the routine has become a superstition.

Yongguk plucked him out of school seemingly at random to groom him as his apprentice and partner, when his peers included young men of more esteemed statuses, better names and fatter purses. He’d been lucky he’d caught Yongguk’s eye. He’d been lucky to have gotten along so well with Himchan when he did, and he counts himself lucky now, as Junhong steps lightly down the hall back into view, his robes flowing behind him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Junhong at least went to _ask_. For the past few days, he knows from chatter in the market and within business circles that Daehyun has not been taking guests, that the _haengsu_ has been guiding guests to other _kisaengs_ in the house.

Youngjae tries not to read into it, but, as a young, tenacious businessman, he has been conditioned to analyze behavior for duplicity and weakness. Junhong going to ask Daehyun if he wants to receive Youngjae means the servant boy believed Youngjae had a chance. It means that out of all the other guests who have come by asking for Daehyun, Junhong thought maybe Daehyun would accept him.

Still, he is not hopeful as Junhong approaches, face pinched and eyes lowered as he bows slightly to Youngjae in the lobby of the _kisaeng_ house.

“I apologize, Master Yoo,” Junhong says, looking uncomfortable. It’s early in the day; Youngjae had simply wanted to see if Daehyun would like to go for a walk with him in the markets. “He is feeling unwell.”

Youngjae frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he offers sincerely. Junhong keeps his head bowed. “Has something happened? Is there anything I can do to help? There have been -- rumors.”

Junhong’s ears flush pink. He knows exactly what kind of rumors have been floating around, unchecked. “You’re kind. I think the kindest thing you can do right now is to be patient.” Junhong pauses, braving a glance at Youngjae from underneath his lashes. “And to call on him again,” he says.

Over the last few weeks, he’s grown to care for the shy and playful _kisaeng_ , and to look forward to his company. He is worried. He wants to help even though he does not know what is wrong. He wants to help more than Junhong seems to think he is capable.

It leaves an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as he goes.

.

Since Youngjae cannot see him, he writes to him. At first, it is strange writing to Daehyun like he is a lover overseas. Youngjae has never written letters like this to anyone, and did not particularly enjoy the lessons on poetry and romantic symbolism during his school-years. He’d always much preferred games at numbers, lessons in history, and chess.

And besides, what can he write on a scroll of paper that he can’t tell Daehyun in person, when the time comes? But he thinks about Daehyun, shut up in his room in the _kisaeng_ house refusing visitors and thinks it must be very lonely, and even more so if it is by choice. So he writes, and tries not to overthink and regret and panic when he hands the little rolls of paper to Junhong to deliver.

Junhong lights up. “Oh, Master Yoo,” he says. “He will appreciate this so much!”

Youngjae finds he cares very much if Daehyun appreciates it, a flutter in his stomach when Junhong beams his smile at him.

He knows when Himchan returns he will have to be more careful with his affections. _Kisaeng_ can entertain as many guests as they want, of course, but ultimately answer to the _haengsu_ of the house and their patrons.

 _Daehyunnie,_ he writes on the first roll he delivers. _Is it too forward to say that I miss your company? I do not know what happened and I will not listen to the rumors. Please believe that you have a friend in me and that I am hopeful for your recovery and return. --YYJ_

He does not get a reply, but since Junhong smiles at him when he brings the next note around -- after Daehyun again turns him away -- he thinks at least he is doing no harm.

 _Daehyunnie,_ he writes. _I went to the market today and walked by the stand where you let me buy you a pin for your hair. The lady recognized me and asked after you. I hope you are well. --YYJ._

He keeps this up for a few days, his letters becoming increasingly mundane, when finally he goes to the house and Junhong very nearly takes his wrist as he guides him back to the private rooms, where Youngjae hopes he will be able to see Daehyun.

His heart leaps up into his throat as they walk. It has only been a few days, and yet this _kisaeng_ has such an effect on him.

“Is he well?” Youngjae manages to ask Junhong as they turn the corner and stop in front of a screen door.

“He is...” Junhong says, pausing and trying not to frown. “Better.” He nods, like he is pleased with his choice of words.

 _Better than what?_ Youngjae wants to ask, but feels it is not his place.

Junhong ushers him into the room and Youngjae sits on a cushion on the floor, regarding the tea set that has been placed out for him but not partaking just yet. He should like to see the angles of Daehyun’s slim wrists as he pours tea for him, he thinks.

Not too long after he sits there is a light knock at the door, and then it opens. Daehyun stands in a hanbok dyed in reds and pinks holding a fan in front of his face, only allowing Youngjae to see his eyes over it. He steps in and the door slides shut.

“Daehyunnie,” Youngjae says like a sigh, relieved to see he is healthy. He stands and moves forward, arms outstretched before he realizes what he is doing. Daehyun shrinks in his _hanbok_ , eyes ducked as he steps away from him.

Youngjae’s arms drop like they are weighed down with lead.

“Master Yoo,” Daehyun greets with a demure little bow, careful not to lower the fan.

“It is good to see you,” Youngjae says truthfully, sitting back down again. Daehyun seems to consider him for a moment before deciding to sit as well, across from him, the little table with the tea set and steaming pot in between them.

“It is good to see you, too,” Daehyun says, his voice bracketed by the fan. His eyes narrow into happy curves when he smiles. “Thank you for the letters. You were kind to think of me.”

“I worried for you.” Youngjae does not see the point in obfuscating the way he’s felt the past few days.

Daehyun ducks again behind the fan, shy.

“Won’t you let me see your face?” Youngjae asks gently.

The rumors have not been kind. The other day he walked by a stall where the owner was in deep gossip about a _kisaeng_ at the local house who was branded on their face for disobedience. Youngjae hopes dearly that is not the case.

“It will alarm you,” Daehyun whispers.

“I want to see that you are not hurt,” Youngjae says, voicing his request in another way. “Please.”

It is the last word that sways him; Youngjae can tell by the quick upward flicker of Daehyun’s eyes and the tiny gasp from behind the fan. Daehyun’s knuckles are white, and the steam from the tea fills the small room with a heady, woodsy scent. He lowers the fan and closes it in his lap.

Youngjae says nothing. He is trying to think of something _to_ say. Daehyun sits before him with his hair shorn above his shoulders, tied back in a simple bun, plain and small. His lips are stained and his eyes lined, and the beauty mark under his eye stands out against his golden skin. Daehyun’s shoulders are tense under the fabric of his _hanbok_. He won’t look at Youngjae.

“Lovely,” Youngjae says. “Daehyunnie, you’re lovely.”

Emotion fills Daehyun’s eyes, making them shimmer, but still he will not look at Youngjae. “You’re too kind,” he says again.

“I am not,” Youngjae says. “You’re still as lovely as the sunrise, Daehyunnie. But what happened? Why have you cut your hair?”

Youngjae watches Daehyun’s hands. They grip the fan tighter, like he wants to wring the prop between them. “It was,” Daehyun begins haltingly. “It was a servant girl. She is gone now. _Haengsu-nim_ turned her out. She was jealous.”

He’s lying. Youngjae has made a career out of catching people in their lies. But he does not expose Daehyun on his.

“What an awful thing to do.”

Daehyun says, “I don’t know how you can still look at me the way you do.”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Youngjae says without shame, shifting on the cushion into a more comfortable position. He wants to reach over to take Daehyun’s hands from his lap.

“Even--” Daehyun starts, but Youngjae speaks again:

“Even if that servant girl had shaved your head, you would still be beautiful as ever.”

This renders Daehyun silent as his ears flame. Youngjae wants to pinch his cheeks. He wants to kiss them.

When Daehyun speaks again, it is with a small, hesitant smile. He reaches forward to take the teapot, the sleeves of his _hanbok_ slipping up his forearm as he pours, exposing his wrists, just like Youngjae imagined.

“You never finished your story about the lovers in the mountains,” Daehyun says, referring to Youngjae’s last letter written to him. “I want to know what happens. Do the messenger doves make it? Are they brought back together?”

Youngjae grins. He had spun the story out of nothing more than his own boredom and desire to share the fruits of it with someone special. Though he’d never enjoyed those lessons on poetry and symbolism in his youth, he’s always loved a good story.

“Of course,” Youngjae says, easily adopting a story-telling persona. “It’s a happy story after all. But first we must know all the trials they face in order to reach that happiness. Shall I tell it now, or would you like it in the form of a letter?”

“Now!” Daehyun says, covering his mouth with his hand immediately after, embarrassed of his outburst. He laughs, and the sound rings wonderfully in Youngjae’s ears.

Youngjae finishes the story that afternoon. He returns in the evening, and tells Daehyun another story as they lay side by side in bed, Daehyun’s head pillowed on his chest and his arms wrapped around Youngjae’s middle.

.

**Author's Note:**

> [writing](http://andnowforyaya.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


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